Chapter 255: Deckard Statham Enters the Race!
Hell's Kitchen — The Continental
"I already put your name in for the Hell's Kitchen race. Win it representing the High Table, and I'll personally recommend you for Adjudicator — that gets you the resources to find whoever killed your brother.
And even if you don't win, no worries — I'll still introduce you to our boss, Ethan. Don't stress, Shaw," Winston said, addressing the man seated across from him.
Winston currently managed Hell's Kitchen's High Table operations and the Continental on Ethan's behalf, but even he couldn't just make unilateral calls without running things by Ethan first.
The bald man across from him, Deckard Shaw, was an old friend of many years. He'd come here specifically hoping Winston — or through him, Ethan — could help him track down whoever had killed his brother, Owen Shaw.
"He's right," Marcus chimed in, backing Winston up. "And honestly, joining Hell's Kitchen this time round means you don't have to keep running and hiding anymore. Look at me. Look at Caine, look at John Wick — they're all doing great since they came on board."
Deckard had been a High Table assassin himself once, right alongside the rest of them, and they'd known each other for years. Marcus knew full well Deckard's driving skills put every single person in this room to shame.
The Hell's Kitchen race was, conveniently, the perfect stage to show off exactly that.
Listening to his two old friends make their case, Deckard found himself genuinely tempted.
If he was honest with himself, all those years as an assassin had worn him down. His original plan had been to retire once he'd settled the score for his brother's death.
He just hadn't figured out yet where he'd actually settle once that was done — men in their line of work rarely got a peaceful ending.
But now, here were his old friends, extending a genuine invitation, and Deckard could see with his own eyes how stable their lives had become in Hell's Kitchen.
He'd also heard plenty about the man running the place — someone who protected his own fiercely. Sounded like exactly the kind of place worth settling down in.
Deckard took a slow breath, straightened his shoulders. "Fine. I'm in — and I intend to win." His voice rang out firm and clear, echoing through every corner of the Continental.
. . .
Meanwhile, at the Mutant Academy
"This race isn't just a chance for us mutants to show off what we can do — it's an opportunity to build real harmony between us and the rest of Hell's Kitchen.
I believe this race can show the world that mutants aren't just capable of destruction. We have plenty of good to offer, too."
Professor X spoke with total conviction, his gaze sweeping across the assembled X-Men, searching for anyone willing to step forward.
Cyclops spoke next, brow furrowed as he worked through the logistics out loud. "The rules restrict us from using our more overwhelming abilities directly — but Ethan never said we couldn't use powers at all. So we need to find someone whose ability threads that needle: within the rules, but still impressive enough to matter."
Beast cut in. "It's a car race — the vehicle's the real key variable here. I'll handle building and tuning the cars for whoever ends up racing, tailored to their specific ability."
When Cyclops asked for volunteers, though, the room fell into an awkward silence.
Everyone exchanged glances, clearly hesitant. None of them could guarantee full control over their powers in a competitive setting without risking someone getting hurt.
Storm spoke up first. "Jean and I are sitting this one out. Our powers are too much — if either of us loses control even slightly, there's no telling what it'd do to the race."
Cyclops nodded, understanding completely. Storm and Jean's abilities really weren't suited to something like this — if either of them entered, there probably wouldn't be a single car left standing by the end.
Just as the silence stretched on, a voice cut through it from the doorway.
"Guess it's a good thing I never joined you X-Men after all. Not one of you willing to step up? Fine — I'll race in your place."
Every head turned. Standing there, back after a long absence, was Pyro.
"You traitor. What are you even doing back here?" Iceman was the first to break the silence, voice sharp with anger, eyes glinting cold enough to freeze the room solid.
If anyone at the school had history with Pyro, it was Iceman. The two of them had been an odd pair back in their school days — friends and rivals in equal measure, a complicated, prickly kind of bond.
Which was exactly why Iceman couldn't stomach what Pyro had done — turning his back on Professor X and defecting to Magneto's side.
The other X-Men didn't say anything as blunt as Iceman had, but their expressions made their feelings toward the "traitor" plain enough.
Pyro clearly noticed the mood in the room, but he simply walked past it all, settling in beside Professor X, seemingly unbothered.
"That's enough," Professor X said suddenly, cutting through the tension — and drawing surprised looks from every X-Man present. "I asked him here myself."
"There's no more dividing line between the Brotherhood and the X-Men anymore. We're all mutants. We're all family." Xavier looked at Pyro and gave a slow, approving nod, clearly placing real hope in him.
Then he turned to Iceman, tone firm. "For this race, I want John and Drake to represent us." He paused. "John, meaning Pyro. Drake — Iceman's given name.
We're not asking either of you to win outright. What matters is proving to the world that mutants have more to offer than just destruction. We have value, too."
The moment Iceman realized he'd been paired with the man he considered a traitor, his face fell into open displeasure. "Professor, can I say no to this? I really don't want to team up with him. Can we get someone else?"
His voice was thick with resentment, clearly unwilling to accept the pairing.
Before Xavier could even respond, Pyro let out a cold laugh of his own.
He shot Iceman a look, the corner of his mouth curling into something mocking. "What, scared? Worried you'll be the one dragging me down?"
His tone dripped with provocation, clearly unimpressed by Iceman's objection.
Iceman — Robert — felt his temper flare instantly at that.
His eyes went wide, fists clenching at his sides, looking every bit ready to throw down with Pyro right then and there.
"Not a chance in hell!" he snapped back. "You're the one who better not slow me down!"
"Just so you know," Xavier added, "this year's competition isn't going to be easy. Pietro's entered too."
"WHAT?! That's completely unfair!"
And of course, mutants weren't the only ones entering. There was also, naturally, our own Dominic Toretto.
"My Family — it's time to assemble!"
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